Deceiving the Viscount

Chapter 13B

"Mrs Brookfield! Frederica! Over here!" Frederica turned her head here and there to try and identify the source of the sound. It was a crush at the Vauxhall Gardens, with members of the ton vying with the common folk for entrance to the pleasure gardens.

She stepped to one side as a particularly large crowd of young bucks stepped onto the path that was the Grand Walk. She tried to give them a wide berth but they were a rowdy, raucous lot and one of the men's shoulder bumped hers. She caught herself but her foot landed on an uneven patch of grass and she stumbled, her hands flying wildly to help her maintain her balance. Then before she could embarrass herself further by crashing into the nearby tree or ground, an arm snaked around her waist, catching her. "Steady now!"

"Thank you-" she blinked at the face of her rescuer. "M-my lord." She quickly righted herself, pushing at his chest that was a firm wall of muscle under her palms.

"Are you alright, Mrs Brookfield?"

"Y-yes." Smoothening her dress, she couldn't meet his eyes for she was afraid he'd see the blush that was surely staining her cheeks. "Thank you for catching me."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement though she noted that he was shooting sharp dagger-like stares at the backs of the group who still hadn't noticed her. "I should drag that bas...bounder here and have him apologise to you."

She touched the sleeve of his arm and shook her head when he looked at her. "'tis fine, my lord. No serious injury was done to my person. Truly."

His gaze searched her face and he must've seen the truth in her eyes because he nodded. "Very well. But only because you have let it go." He clasped his hands behind his back as he looked around. "Are you here alone tonight?"

"No, Julia invited me along to see Madam Saqui perform on the tightrope." She dug the watch out from her reticule. "She'd said to meet her at seven but it's quarter past and she's still not arrived. I wonder if something's happened to her." Her eyes met Healey's frown. "Is something the matter?"

"I..." He looked away. "No, nothing."

She glanced about him. "How about you? Are you here alone tonight?"

"No, I'm here at the behest of Miss Marlowe as well."

"Strange, she'd not told me she was inviting anyone else."

"I hadn't known you were invited as well."

Frederica stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck, trying to peer through the crowd, though it was quite unhelpful because she was fairly diminutive and the current fashion of donning large feathers and headdresses meant she could hardly see much. "Do you suppose she's already here and looking for us? I thought I heard someone call my name earlier." She let out a groan of frustration. "Why must all these women wear such large and ridiculous headwear?"

"Maybe if I lent you my shoulders, you might be able to see above their heads. Though I think you might have to sit on them to have any hope of that."

Her gaze cut to his sharply. "Are you calling me short, my lord?"

His wry grin did thrilling yet unwanted things to her heart. Before she could reply, her elbow pulled into a firm grip. "There you are, Frederica! I'm terribly sorry that I'm late." Julia gasped. "The crowd was ferocious and I had to fight my wait in."

Frederica patted her friend's hand. "You're finally here and that's all that matters."

"Yes, it is thankful that Mr Shearing agreed to accompany me tonight. He was instrumental in ensuring I arrived by your side in one piece." Frederica smiled at the man who was looming behind. "Oh, good evening, my lord! I hadn't noticed you."